


Trouble for Chocolate

by talkingsoup



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Gift Fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, One Shot, The Dreemurrs Being Happy, one hundred percent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10849617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingsoup/pseuds/talkingsoup
Summary: Asriel tries to figures out what his new sibling likes.





	Trouble for Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my good friend Snap, the best Chara anyone could ask for.

The first time Asriel asked the question, Chara stared at him as though he had grown a second head.

 

“Excuse me?” they said, as politely as always.

 

He tilted his head, which made him look absurdly like a confused puppy.

 

“Um…I asked what you like? You know, what do you like to eat, what do you like to do? That sort of thing?” He squinted at them. “Is that a weird question for humans? Oh, golly. I’m not being predge…pred-juice…I um, I forget how to pronounce it, where you judge people and it’s offensive?”

 

“Prejudiced.” Chara could not just pronounce it, they could also spell it. “And no, you are not. It is a common enough question among humans.”

 

They just…couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked them such a thing. Never? Probably never. People on the Surface had not concerned themselves with what Chara _liked._

 

“I simply did not hear you correctly.”

 

“Oh! Okay, sorry. So…what _do_ you like?”

 

Chara inclined their head and tapped their chin, considering it for a moment.

 

“Murder. I like murder.”

 

Asriel scrunched up his snout and gave them a dubious look.

 

“Arson is also good.” Chara gave a sage nod.

 

Asriel started laughing. He had a hearty laugh, like his father’s but higher-pitched, and sometimes he snorted like his mother. It still surprised them--people didn’t usually enjoy such a morbid sense of humor. Anyone on the Surface would have stared at them like they were crazy.

 

Like they were dangerous.

 

Asriel never looked at them that way. It was…surprising.

 

“Haha, you’re so weird!” He grinned widely. “You know, one time before you came here, I was um, I was practicing fire magic, and I set a flower on fire. On accident! But it was so cool. It just went _fwoosh.”_

 

He paused thoughtfully. “I felt kinda bad for the flower, though.”

 

Of course he had.

 

“But seriously! What do you like?”

 

They smiled at him.

 

“Dying and being dead,” they answered, deadpan.

 

He scrunched up his snout again and folded his arms. It was an amusing enough sight that Chara laughed, quietly, hand in front of their mouth to muffle the sound. One could not be too loud.

 

“Come on, I wanna know!”

 

“You’ll never get me to talk, copper.” Chara pulled up a fistful of grass and threw it at him. A few blades landed on his nose and made him sneeze.

 

They laughed a little louder that time.

  
  


It became like a game over the next week or so. Asriel caught on quickly and began employing subterfuge and stealth tactics. He would spring questions on them in the middle of an otherwise normal conversation, or randomly in the middle of a long silence. He’d ask them at night as they were about to fall asleep, or first thing in the morning when they were still groggy. Chara, for their part, came up with increasingly more morbid or absurd answers to throw him off or make him laugh.

 

They were going to win this game. He would very likely become bored in a few more days, and then Chara could go back to only being whatever the Dreemurrs wanted of them. What Chara liked or wanted did not matter. They did not want to screw this up.

 

The Dreemurrs were odd. Monsters, as a whole, were odd, but the Dreemurrs were like the families Chara had seen on television. A father with a deep laugh who was gentle and kind despite his size; a mother who hummed while she baked pies. And a son who was very energetic, and happy, and good. And perhaps something of a brat from time to time, though Chara figured that was the pot calling the kettle black. On the Surface, there would have been a sitcom about this family, one with a laugh track, one that presented a problem at the start of the episode and then resolved it at the end, with a swell of music and a big, family hug.

 

They were a perfect family.

 

Why they had allowed an imperfection into their lives, Chara did not understand. The other shoe would drop soon enough, and Chara did not want to speed it along. They had to try and enjoy this while it lasted.

 

So the game continued.

 

“What’s your favorite color?”

 

“Black, like my soul.”

 

“Pssh! I’ve seen your soul, it’s red!”

 

“A cunning illusion created with dark magics.”

 

Asriel got more creative.

 

“Hey, Dad says we can help in the garden today! You like gardening, right?”

 

“I enjoy the feeling of bending life to my will. Mua-ha-ha!”

 

“That’s a pretty good evil laugh, but listen to mine--EE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”

 

“That is decent, yes.”

 

Asriel got more clever.

 

“What kind of pie do you think Mom’s gonna make for dessert?”

 

“I hope it’s blood pie.”

 

“Haha gross!”

 

“When you cut into it, it bleeds. And screams.”

 

“I don’t think Mom would make a pie that screams.”

 

And eventually, Asriel got bolder.

 

“Hey, Chara! What’s your favorite food?”

 

He asked this one in the middle of dinner, while all of them were still at the table. Chara shot him a sharp look, then glanced furtively at Toriel. She missed it, looking at Asriel instead.

 

“I have been curious about that as well!” She turned toward Chara, and Chara met her gaze evenly, like a good child. “I would love to be able to cook your favorite meal for you someday, Chara.”

 

Chara looked down at their plate, driving their fork a little deeper into a pile of mashed potatoes. Monster potatoes, cooked perfectly, smooth and creamy. Monster food was almost always perfect; or maybe Toriel was just that good at cooking.

 

They couldn’t give a ridiculous answer while Toriel and Asgore were listening.

 

“I like this dinner Ms. Toriel has made,” they said, making sure to speak clearly, their tone neutral. “Every meal Ms. Toriel makes is my favorite.”

 

Asriel propped his chin on his hand, scrunching up his snout, not yet ready to admit defeat.

 

“Ugh, that’s cheating.”

 

“Elbows off the table, Asriel,” Toriel said, and Asriel complied. “That is a very kind thing to say, my child.”

 

“But _every_ meal can’t be your favorite,” Asriel pressed.

 

“I have liked everything Ms. Toriel has cooked for m--us.”

 

“You know you can call her ‘Mom,’ right?”

 

Chara went somewhat rigid in their chair, staring at their food. Surely not. Surely _not._ They had no right. They were an intrusion, an imperfection at this perfect family’s perfect dinner. They were not anyone’s child.

 

“Asriel.” Toriel’s voice was just the slightest bit sharp. “They may call us whatever makes them most comfortable.”

 

At the other end of the table, Asgore nodded. “There is no need to press them, son.”

 

Chara sat quietly in the brief silence that followed, hands folded on the table, certain that they had now ruined this. This too.

 

“Okay,” Asriel said after another moment, and went back to his food. “Sorry.”

 

And just like that, the tension dissipated. The Dreemurrs returned to talking about their day, and about the Underground, this and that. After a minute or so, Chara let themselves relax again.

 

Asriel was quiet and thoughtful after dinner, and didn’t say very much until he and Chara were both in bed. Chara stared at the darkened ceiling, hoping that the game was on pause until the next day. The room was silent but for Asriel’s soft breathing, until he spoke, voice hushed.

 

“Hey, Chara? Are you awake?”

 

They thought about simply not answering.

 

“Yes.”

 

They heard Asriel turn onto his side in his bed, so that he was facing them.

 

“I’m sorry about dinner. Um…I think I kind of…made things awkward? Put you on the spot, I think?”

 

Chara closed their eyes, though the room was dark enough that it made little difference.

 

“It is alright. It simply caught me off guard.” They paused. “I do not like being caught off guard.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry I did that.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

They were both silent for a moment. Chara hoped that was the end of it, but then he spoke again.

 

“Hey, Chara? How come you don’t want to tell me about the things you like? Your favorite color and favorite food and stuff?”

 

Chara’s hands were folded across their chest, pressed into the comforter, and they kept them perfectly still.

 

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

 

“You’re my sibling,” Asriel answered, without hesitation. “I want to know what makes you happy, so I can make you happy.”

 

Chara kept their hands still.

 

“You cannot _make_ someone happy, Asriel.”

 

He made a soft sound, and they could imagine his expression. Snout scrunched up again, eyes sad. Perhaps they should not have said that. Perhaps they should have made another joke instead. He did not understand.

 

He should not, should never, have to understand.

 

“Well…” he ventured. “Well maybe, but I want to um, at least help you, you know? You’re family and I love you. You…you act like you’re worried we’re just gonna, um…chuck you in the garbage dump or something, but we’re not. I’d never do that, Chara. I just wanna know if I can help, and, and it’s normal to know what your sibling likes, right? I always wanted a sibling.”

 

Chara gripped the edge of the comforter, bunching and twisting the fabric in their hands. Twisting things out of place. But the fabric was soft, and felt good against their palms. Comfort _ing._ There was a joke there. They’d have to remember it for later.

 

“I like you,” they said at last. “I like your parents. I like being here.”

 

He was quiet, but they could imagine his expression now. He’d be smiling. He’d won. Or, no. It wasn’t really about winning, they supposed.

 

“I’m glad you like us!”

 

“If I did not like you, then I fell into exactly the wrong place,” Chara said, and Asriel giggled. Fell, yes. They didn’t think they could use any other word. Not yet, maybe not ever.

 

“Um…” Chara toyed with the edge of the comforter, folding it, bunching it, smoothing it back out. “My favorite food is…chocolate, I think.”

 

“Ooh!” The sound turned into a yawn. “Ooh, chocolate is really good. I like chocolate, too.”

 

“It’s tasty,” Chara said, a little wistfully. They hadn’t had chocolate since coming to the Underground. “There is nothing quite like it.”

 

“Maybe I’ll ask Mom to make chocolate pie tomorrow.” Asriel turned back over, yawning again. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

 

“You are welcome,” they said softly, and turned over as well, still gripping the comforter.

 

“Goodnight, Chara.”

 

“Goodnight, Asriel.”

 

Chara fell asleep listening to Asriel snore gently. They dreamed of chocolate pie.

 

  


Asriel was gone the following morning. They didn’t think they had ever woken up to find his bed empty; it left a hard knot in the pit of their stomach. When they found Toriel in the kitchen, she gave a somewhat exasperated sigh and smiled.

 

“He left a note saying he was going out to find something,” she said, shaking her head. “That boy. I’m going to have to have a talk with him about running off without telling anyone. Well, I was impulsive too at that age! I suppose he must get it from me.”

 

Chara spent the morning in the garden, fretting and trying not to. They arranged twigs and blades of grass and shed leaves into patterns and towers to keep their hands and their mind occupied. Every time they built a twig tower too high, it collapsed, and they started over.

 

Asriel returned just before noon, carrying a large brown bag in both arms. He was grinning ear to ear, and bounced his way through the garden toward Chara, almost tripping over flowers or his own feet.

 

“Where were you?” Chara demanded, and instantly regretted it. They shouldn’t _demand._ They shouldn’t take that tone of voice with the Prince of the Underground. With their…brother.

 

Asriel didn’t even seem to notice, too excited.

 

“Chara, Chara, look what I found!”

 

He bounded to a stop in front of them and upended the bag in his arms onto a bare patch of ground, careful to avoid the flowers and Chara’s arrangement of leaves.

 

Two large plastic bags fell out onto the ground. They were family-sized bags of assorted Halloween candy, old but not expired. Everything was still sealed in plastic or in wrappers.

 

All of it was chocolate.

 

“I went digging through the dump!” Asriel said, putting his hands on his hips proudly. “Mr. Gerson helped me! He goes through there and finds good stuff to sell, so he knows the best places to look, and, and how to find stuff that’s intact! But _I_ was the one who found it!”

 

Chara picked up one of the bags in somewhat reverent silence, staring at the contents. All of the usual name-brands were accounted for.

 

“There’s regular chocolate, and there’s chocolate with peanuts and peanut butter, and there’s chocolate with wafers in it I think?” Asriel pawed at the other bag. “All different kinds!”

 

Chara stared up at him, unable to control their expression.

 

“Why would you…go to this much trouble?”

 

He beamed at them.

 

“Silly! Don’t you know what day it is?”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s been exactly one month since we became siblings!” Asriel said, laughing. “I wanted to do something nice for you!”

 

Chara’s grip tightened on the bag and they set it down carefully before they could crush any of the precious contents. They had no idea what to say.

 

“Do you like it? I hope I got all the good stuff. I don’t really know much about human chocolate.”

 

Chara stood, and before they could stop themselves or think better of it, they moved forward and wrapped their arms around Asriel.

 

It was halting and awkward, and they were bony enough that it couldn’t possibly be comfortable. They had to be holding on too tight. They were not good at this, and considering the way Asriel froze up, he could probably tell. This was too much, it was too forward, but Chara did not trust their voice.

 

But then Asriel relaxed, and he carefully hugged them back. He was always careful. Ever since he had laid a hand on their shoulder without warning, and they had jumped, startled. Weeks ago now. He had been careful ever since.

 

They complicated things. They made things awkward; they forced people to be careful when they shouldn’t have to be. They turned simple, normal questions into games of willpower.

 

And yet for some reason, Asriel still loved them. The Dreemurrs still loved them.

 

Chara smiled, and was glad that Asriel couldn’t see their face in this moment. They didn’t think they wanted him to see a real smile from them yet.

 

“You’re in trouuubblllee,” they said. “Your Mom is upset that you ran off without telling anyone.”

 

“Getting into trouble is _totally_ worth it if it’s for chocolate!” Asriel said, laughing in their arms.

 

“Can we have some? Right now?” Chara asked, dropping their voice to a whisper. Surely it would ruin their lunch. Surely it was something bad kids would do.

 

“Heck yeah,” Asriel whispered back. “It’s all yours, though. You don’t have to share it.”

 

“I want to.” Chara felt a little wild. A little excited. A little dangerous--and for once, not in a bad way. Getting into trouble was worth it for chocolate.

 

They sat in the garden and ate candy, giggling, Chara telling Asriel about different kinds of chocolate, Asriel telling Chara about neat things he’d seen at the dump. When Toriel found them, no one got in any trouble. There were just a few stern words, and the rest of the candy was placed in the pantry for later.

  
Dessert that night was chocolate pie.


End file.
